The coronation was a bit quieter than most, and it wasn't televised, but nevertheless, news spread like wildfire, and I was reasonably certain my subjects would fight tooth and nail to keep me safe, just as I'd do for them.
I appointed Henrietta as my new Prime Minister, since that office had been left vacant following the destruction of London, and between her and the rest of the ne cabinet, we got to work. As predicted, the rest of the Commonwealth rallied behind me, and before long, I was receiving countless offers of help, monetary and otherwise, to help kickstart the rebuilding of the city. It was going to be somewhat of a mammoth task, since the city had been fairly hefty in size, but no one minded, and set to with a will.
As for myself, I ruled from Manchester, and the safe house became like a miniature palace of sorts. I could never quite get used to having servants attending to my every need, and I did have to make it clear on more than one occasion I was quite capable of dressing myself, much to their amusement. They did let it go, however, and I allowed them free reign elsewhere, giving a nice little compromise.
Something else I had to compromise on was marriage. I'd never been fond of it, but I was the Queen, after all, and no one wanted a repeat of the disaster which had wiped out the royal family and all their potential successors. Henrietta helped me choose a good man, and I married Mark in a modest ceremony three months after my coronation. Mark was not a man I could fall in love with, but he did make a good consort, and being a few years older than me, he had the life experience which helped steer me when I felt a bit off kilter.
Plus, he turned out to be rather good in bed. Which ensured I had a solid succession when I gave birth to my first child, a daughter, the following year. Since succession laws had changed a while back, my daughter, whom I named Mary after my adoptive mother, would follow me on the throne, with no male child to displace her if and when he came along. And come along he did, when I gave birth to Andrew not long after Mary turned one. She was a fiercely devoted older sister once she got used to having a little brother running around after her, and the two of them were thick as thieves, something which pleased me immensely.
Unfortunately, my happiness was marred when I miscarried my third child, but Mark was there to help me through it, and our rainbow baby Thomas was born a year later. His birth was, sadly, too traumatic to allow me to have any more children, so I made the difficult decision to have a hysterectomy. Mark surprised me by getting "the snip" in support. "I know you can't get pregnant in any case," he told me, "but I figured it was only fair to save the little fellas and let them have an honourable discharge, if you get my drift."
I did get his drift, and his phrasing actually made me smile despite the sorrow brought on by my decision. And we had three beautiful children, who'd grow up, marry, and have children of their own.
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But it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Gerry and his cohorts had to be dealt with, and it was a long, painful process of court cases. I didn't have to attend, but I wanted to be there, and I wanted Gerry and his former gang see that I'd succeeded despite their efforts. That didn't stop me from breaking down in tears in Mark's arms after we returned home, but it was immensely satisfying to see the sick look on Gerry's face when he saw me seated in the gallery in all my royal finery, with the crown firmly on my head, letting him know I was Queen, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.
I had the joy of seeing London slowly coming back to life to balance the renewed pain of having to see the conspirators in court, and every chance I could, I went to see how the rebuilding was going. It was always wonderful to see how much things had changed between visits, and the workers always seemed to be heartened whenever I was around. I was touched by their devotion, and made it a point to visit a different worksite each day, thus inspiring each man and woman to do their best. I even got my hands dirty, and when the children were older, I allowed them to come as well, whilst making sure they stayed away from the more dangerous parts of each site. Thomas proved a handful, but he also provided many laughs when he accidentally stepped in a not-quite-dry section of new footpath. Rather than smooth the imperfections over, his little footprints were left where they were, and the workers scratched his name and the date underneath. To my surprise, Mary and Andrew insisted on adding their footprints as well, and then Mark and I had to complete the picture, which we happily did, earning many smiles and compliments once all our names had been added to what was later dubbed "the Royal Walk of Fame." 187Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBuZssolMFe
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The last of the conspirators were sentenced by the time news reached me that the first buildings had reached habitable state. There was great ceremony as I declared them officially open, and the cheer and pomp afterwards lasted well into the night. Fittingly, the next day, we moved into the as yet incomplete Buckingham Palace, and I was amazed at how far along it was. "I can't believe they did this first," I whispered to Mark as we explored the habitable portions of the palace.
"I suppose they wanted to have us closer nearby," Mark mused. "It's a bloody good job they've done, you have to admit."
And it was. I had no real desire to have a country house, and the old royal residences had been destroyed the day of the initial attack which had claimed the lives of the royal family. Besides, I was still a city girl at heart, and the palace was home enough for me, and then some. I had all the room I needed, and in true tradition, I began acquiring dogs. Not corgis, as I'd once jokingly said, but golden retrievers. My grandma had been a well known breeder, and I'd grown up surrounded by the adorable tykes. I even bought a few horses, and Mary proved herself no slouch at riding. Andrew and Thomas were more interested in cars, however, so Mark helped them buy some classic cars and the lessons needed to turn them from junks to treasures.
And the car we chose for our official functions? A cream and white Volkswagen Kombi. It raised no small amount of eyebrows, but once the people got used to seeing us trundle by, it sparked a wave of demand for more. We didn't mind; in fact, I rather enjoyed seeing more Kombis appear on the streets of London as people returned to the city and helped bring it back to life. It wasn't the first trend we'd started, but it was amongst the most entertaining, and as the days moved on towards winter, I felt more and more like the London I knew and loved was coming back into its own.
And it was the best feeling in the world.
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